


that boy is a goddamned problem

by grison



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Allergies, Gen, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 08:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13923489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grison/pseuds/grison
Summary: Yondu's got a problem. Aleta just wants to go back to sleep--and she's willing to do whatever it takes to get there.





	that boy is a goddamned problem

Yondu takes a deep breath and then bangs heavily on the door. "Aleta," he bellows, increasing his tempo as she fails to respond. " 'Leta, lemme in, I got a _problem_."

Eventually, he's rewarded: the door cracks open to reveal Aleta's narrowed face, her eyes faintly glowing with rage behind the touseled, oily strands of her hair.

"Udonta, it is 0425. Are you _dying_ , Udonta? You'd better be, because if you're not I'm gonna _help you along the way_."

Yondu shifts uneasily from foot to foot. P'raps he oughta have waited some after waking up to bother Aleta with this issue—nah, then she might've got the impression it wasn't _important_. He hedges his bets. "Maybe?"

She glares again before grating out "Fine, come in then before you get the whole damn hallway gawking." He doesn't wait for her to change her mind.

Once inside, Yondu takes a deep breath. "Aleta, y'know that Hraxian kid I been hangin' out with on jobs and shit lately? The one angling for first-mate-track?"

"Yeah, I know the one you mean. Obfonteri, right?" She looks simultaneously disgusted and intrigued, which Yondu takes as a good omen. He'd been expecting pure disgust, maybe a hint of boredom. When he doesn't continue fast enough, she growls "Go on. Quit making faces, man, and spit it the fuck out. What about Obfonteri has you this freaked out? He threaten to eat you in the showers or something?"

If only— _that_ Yondu’d know how to deal with. He summons his courage and, when it fails him, collapses on one of the chairs in Aleta's sitting area and mumbles into his chest. This is apparently less endearing than he'd hoped, because she snaps "Tell me or let me go the hell back to sleep, because if you don't do one or the other I swear I'm going to knock you unconscious and explain any permanent damage to Stakar later."

Yondu doesn't whine--he would never do something so undignified!--but a certain uncertain tone might slink though his traitorous vocal cords all the same. "thnkm'llrgkt'm," he gets out, slightly louder this time.

It fails to appease Aleta, who leans into his face and glares until the stinging of her glowing eyes threatens to actually blind him. In self-defense, Yondu blurts out "Think I might be allergic to him, okay!"

Aleta sits back on her haunches and stares at him. "What the… _why_?"

Yondu has experienced torture, okay, and this is not that bad. And yet he wishes he was anywhere else. Like with that beanpole Hraxian that he's allergic to, damnit. Instead of here trying to explain himself to Aleta. Anywhere else.

He glares--he's not totally sure what allergies feel like, but this seems to fit the vague description Stakar had given him about what to watch out for. He ticks off the signs on his fingers: "can't breathe right around 'm, get all--itchy an' antsy when he's around, keep wanting to touch shit. Keep goin' purple when he's around, like I gotta fever. Feel"—here he wrinkles his nose—"feel real warm, too."

He adds, darkly, "An' the more time I spend around him, worse it gets. Gotta be an allergy."

She looks at him with a mixture of fascination and horror. "Have you considered that you might wanna fuck him?"

Yondu glares. "I knew _that_ , that's why it's pissin' me off to be allergic, ain't it? Not that I could _do_ anythin’ about it; there's a chain of command thing and all, and he's all tiny and shit. Prob'ly isn't even interested anyway."

He sinks into the chair. "But Stakar told me you can swell up an' die from allergies, and I ain't never seen anyone do that before so I'd rather not risk it, thanks." He sinks further into the chair. "Tried asking Marty about it first and he just laughed at me until he fell over, so I'm guessin' there ain't a cure."

"Did.... Did you ask anyone else?"

He glares. "Well, _yeah_. But Charlie wouldn't tell me anything and Mainframe ain't got a body anyway and Krugarr just said some weird-ass nonsense about entwining souls and beautiful conjugations, so I kinda figured you were my last resort."

Aleta looks like someone has handed her a beautiful, valuable, delicate, and extremely angry viper. "You didn't ask Stakar?" she tries.

He looks horrified and tries even harder to merge with the seat cushions. "I ain't tellin' _Stakar_ about my dick problems!"

"But you'll tell _me_ at ass o'clock in the morning?"

He squirms. "Well. Yeah. I was hopin' you might know how to make it go away."

Aleta drops her face into her hands. “I— Ogord’s tits, you—okay. Okay. Tell me about the, uh, the _symptoms_ you’re experiencing when you’re spending time near Obfonteri.”

Yondu looks mutinous. “I just said, didn’t I? Breathin’ and itchy an’ stuff. Allergies.”

She stares at him through her splayed fingers. “That’s all? No swelling? Any visible rashes? Or is it just that you hang around this kid you _like_ , and you get _jittery_ and _flushed_ and _breathless_?”

He stares blankly. “Yeah. That’s allergies, yeah?”

Aleta gets up and wordlessly stalks to her liquor cabinet, pulling out a spun crystal tumblr and a bottle of the really _good_ Shi’arian slivovica. She pours herself a generous pair of fingers, downs them, and then pours herself a few more for good measure. “You’re not swelling up anywhere or turning pale ‘cause you can’t breathe or passing out?”

He looks disturbingly thoughtful. “Nah, not aside from the wanting-t’-fuck-him stuff. Why?”

Aleta grimly drains her glass. “Son, you ain’t got allergies. You got something way worse.”

Yondu quails. “What? Am I dying? Is it contagious?”

“You might say that, yeah.” She takes another swig. “Kid, you got _feelings_ for Obfonteri. Like y’wanna, I dunno, braid his hair or hold his hand or share the liver of an enemy together kinda feelings.”

Yondu looks confused. “He ain’t got hair long enough to braid, and I don’t think we got any enemies in common. And why would I want to hold his hand? He’s already holdin’ it.”

Aleta glares him into silence. “You love that kid an’ you want him to love you back and also,” she leans back in her chair, “you want him to fuck you six ways to Sandovai. Try doin’ that. It’ll sort things out.”

Yondu’s face is a considering and then abruptly horrified picture. “He might not want to, though. What’m I supposed to do then?”

Aleta thinks back to the besotted look that pops up on the Obfonteri’s face every time she sees him in Yondu’s presence and rolls her eyes. “You’ll never know until you try, right? Go on. If it’s not better when you fuck, then you can come back.” She pauses a minute, contemplating your glass. “And if you get a rash somewhere unpleasant or you pass out or something, tell him to call a medic. Or if you swell up somewhere besides your dick or your dick gets all swollen in the not-fun way, or if shit starts to burn funny.” Never hurts to cover your bases.

Yondu watches her, wide-eyed, and nods slowly. Good.

“Now get the fuck outta my rooms, kid, because it’s still ass o’ clock at night and Mama’s gotta get her damn beauty rest. Scat.”

He does. Aleta contemplates her empty glass, then goes back for the bottle. Screw it. She takes one more solid swig before ambling back into her warm, soft bed. Maybe there’s a chance to get a few more hours of shut-eye until morning shift.

_Hope that kid knows what he’s getting in for,_ she thinks absently, just before sleep enfolds her in its warm embrace. _Ready or not, here it comes…_

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while, huh! Fear not--I am definitely still working on my other stories, just the whole living out of a hotel for a month followed by still not having a working bathroom sink a month after THAT thing has put a dent in my ability to focus and get all excited. In the meantime, I dug this out of my drafts folder, laughed my ass off, and finished it real quick-like this evening. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
